


Absolution

by WitchyBee



Category: Grand Theft Auto V
Genre: Gen, Post-Game, mentions of abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-27
Updated: 2013-10-27
Packaged: 2017-12-30 15:07:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1020140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WitchyBee/pseuds/WitchyBee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael had no idea what insane impulse had possessed him as he drove past the church, but he’d found himself parking the car and walking inside. It was strangely familiar. </p><p>“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.” Michael was proud of himself for remembering how to do the sign of the cross.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Absolution

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, basically this all came from a headcanon that spiraled out of control and would not leave me alone. I was looking at all the tattoos Michael can get and thinking that he probably wouldn't get them now at this time in his life, but he would've twenty-five years ago. So I decided that, even though in the game you have to get the tattoos, Michael already had them for a long time.
> 
> Following me so far? Sort of? All right. Then I thought about the Virgin Mary tattoo, and that one seemed odd to me, because Michael doesn't seem religious. (Fun fact: In Russian prisons, a Virgin Mary tattoo means that person has been a thief/criminal since a young age.)
> 
> Then for some reason I decided his mom was a devoted Catholic, and this fic just kind of happened. It's a lot of overthinking on my part.

Michael had no idea what insane impulse had possessed him as he drove past the church, but he’d found himself parking the car and walking inside. It was strangely familiar. 

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.” Michael was proud of himself for remembering how to do the sign of the cross. “It’s been, uh...I guess about thirty-two years since my last confession. I haven’t exactly been on the straight and narrow either, so this might take a while.”

“The Lord always guides us back to His light, even those who have lost their faith or strayed into darkness,” the priest said.

“Yeah, well...I don’t know if I believe in anything,” he admitted. “I mean, if Hell exists, I’m pretty sure I’m still going there anyway, and that’s fine. At least my friends will be burning with me. You know, I’ve done a lot of things wrong in my life. I turned into a bitter, angry, drunk asshole just like my father: the one person I never wanted to be. Somehow that’s worse than all the other bad stuff. I’m trying to do right by my family, because God knows he never did.”

“It sounds like you truly seek forgiveness for your sins,” the priest commented. “Perhaps you are not beyond saving, after all.”

“I don’t know about that. You haven’t heard what I’ve done yet.”

“We are human; we make mistakes. We all sin. It is the desire to be forgiven and better ourselves that counts in God’s eyes.”

“I wanted to change. I really did. I used to think that maybe...I was just evil.”

When Michael was a kid, his mother brought him to church often to get away from his dad and hopefully instill good morals. The only thing he ever learned was how to steal money from the collection plate. However, these were some of the few memories from his childhood that his mind hadn’t blocked out.

He remembered his mother kneeling in church, head bowed and eyes closed, whispering as she prayed the rosary. He also remembered his mother kneeling on the cracked linoleum floor of their small kitchen, covering her head, eyes wide and fearful, crying out as Michael’s father beat her in yet another drunken rage.

Shortly after Michael was released from prison the first time, he got a tattoo of the Virgin Mary on his right arm. He still didn’t know exactly why, since he hadn’t even thought about church in years. Maybe he’d been drunk. 

“I’ve killed people. I could try to guess, but the truth is I have no idea how many,” he confessed to the priest. “I don’t know if I even have a conscience half the time, because that doesn’t bother me as much as it probably should. Let’s see, what else? I robbed banks. I’ve stolen cars. I go to strip clubs. I cheated on my wife once, although she cheated on me a lot, too. I lied to my best friend for ten years. I ignored my family until they hated me almost as much as I do. Now that we’re trying to fix things, I’m worried I’ll be the same miserable bastard and drive them away again. You know, I think the only reason I came here is because my therapist ran off with all my money.”

A long silence followed in the wake of his confession. Michael did feel a bit lighter now that he had told someone the complete truth. Well, as complete as possible without going into detail, which would’ve taken hours. He’d done more than his share of sinning. Honestly, Michael didn’t care if God forgave him or not. It would be a fucking miracle if he could ever forgive himself.

He left the confessional before the priest had a chance to respond.


End file.
